


Separation Anxiety

by narutoblogging



Series: Rewind, look closer, watch it change under your care. [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narutoblogging/pseuds/narutoblogging
Summary: No matter how much time passed, Shikamaru never became used to seeing Chouji get hurt.
Relationships: Akimichi Chouji/Nara Shikamaru
Series: Rewind, look closer, watch it change under your care. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098329
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Separation Anxiety

Shikamaru understood Chouji as the powerhouse of a ninja he was, in the way few people outside their allied clans did. He trusted Chouji completely and implicitly, before and after he grew into his bloodline and became more self-reliant in combat missions - but still, he was unable to lead him to his full potential. That day they chased Sasuke and his captors was worlds away, 7, 8 years back, but he never trusted himself again, and he became so protective over his best friend it was… nearly insulting.

He sighed as he smoothed over the corners of the gauze stretched around Chouji’s side, where he got stabbed between his ribs. It was a planned opening, and the combat panned out exactly as he expected once the rogue ninja targeted the perceived vulnerability, twisting to abridge their distance and extending her arm in a perfectly perpendicular position to the faint path of light from a candle in the next room, projecting a dark, delineated shadow in the opposite wall and giving Shikamaru the chance to subdue her in an environment his technique would have been otherwise useless.

All in all, it was the smoothest of options from where they stood in the mission after a few left turns - but it hadn’t been Shikamaru’s choice, of course. He realized what Chouji had planned to do from the moment he stepped out of formation with an apologetic look, and signed their code. “Diversion”, “light”, “capture”. He caught on to the layout potential before Shikamaru. Not that he would know, maybe he thought Shikamaru had figured it out and was stubbornly refusing to see it through, as it was clear as day every time they went into duty together Shikamaru was always ready to throw the mission to get Chouji out of it as soon as possible, to extend an already over-extended mission for his safety.

Shikamaru retracted his hands and Chouji offered a quiet “thank you” before fastening his robes with a bashfulness he wouldn’t have bothered with on any other occasion. It had the undertones of a “sorry”, but they weren’t ready for that conversation, when there was nothing Chouji should be apologizing for, they both knew. He sighed again, and organized the little first aid kit in his hands with a heavy expression.

He had never considered himself an emotionally constipated man. He had been raised to some standard of stoicism that said only about analyzing one's feelings and dealing with them when and where proper, and however possible. If anything he believed himself very emotionally intelligent and could pass as such in most areas in his life, but… a lot happened. There was Asuma, then war, (then Asuma, again, which was very unnerving), then he lost his dad, then he became his clan’s head, then he was summoned for a secretarial position at Kakashi’s Hokage’s office, then his mom passed, then, then, then…

He grew tired. He threw himself into work, because it didn't take the intimidating amount of energy it would to focus on his personal life, rebuild his psyche, his sense of self and his relationships - it was something concrete that he was good at and that could deal with it and that was socially acceptable to spend most of your waking time dedicated to.

They grew apart. The one thing he hadn't expected out of it actually hit him first thing like a freight train ( _and he needed to look over the papers for the railroad project the contractors left on his desk that Mond_ -); seeing him so seldom made him more and more irrationally protective (of Chouji, of the conceptual value of their relationship, if their connection was weakening, if it was becoming unimportant to the other, if it would fade completely before he gathered the courage to address it, and he was so scared to...). What more, he could tell Chouji was getting upset and confused by his uncharacteristic carelessness, the silence, the paranoia. It killed Shikamaru.

“I’m fine.” Chouji said softly, almost worriedly, like he was comforting a frightened kitten on its first vet visit.

Shikamaru must have checked out for longer than he thought, as Chouji usually gave him a good minute’s space when he got too in his own head. He nodded and pressed his hands flush against his face, fingertips massaging his forehead, his nose bridge, then sliding harshly over his eyelids, so when he opened his eyes again Chouji’s face was obscured by dancing inky blotches.

“I’m sorry I’m never around,” Shikamaru murmured weakly. Chouji’s face grew defeated as his vision cleared, and he didn’t look at him when he replied, like he didn’t mean it.

“You’re here now.”

Shikamaru wanted to tell Chouji to stop pretending it was ok, to be angry at him, but he didn’t have the courage. He put the little box on top of Chouji’s bedroom desk (he didn’t know when he had gotten it, he hasn’t been in his room in months, and it pained him that they didn’t talk often enough that Chouji would volunteer these small updates). He leaned forward and pressed his head against Chouji’s shoulder, and his heart sank further when Chouji flinched, unused to the contact.

They stayed like this for a while, Shikamaru afraid of moving, like his heart would break at any further proof of their estrangement. Chouji took the initiative to raise his hand, pet him lightly, and tentatively move to take his hair tie off. He proceeded to run his hand through his hair, and Shikamaru was so happy he could cry, he had missed his affectionate touch so much. He finally lifted his head and looked at Chouji, who looked tired, freshly scrubbed skin pale but flushing at points, red-spotted from enduring the week-long cold of their discreet camping setup; but he still thought he was so pretty… He resented people would not pay attention to all these details, the cheery roundness of his warm brown eyes, his pretty, delicate straight brows, the pleasant smooth slope of his profile, from forehead to brows and cheekbones and (delightfully squeezable) cheeks, curving back at his chin in a perfectly round shape,- his rosy lips… his soft rosy lips…

Shikamaru bent his head slowly and they both moved at the same time to close the gap between them. The kiss was soft, they nearly always were when they kissed, specially nowadays that they didn’t do it very often. It had still been so long, Shikamaru melted into it like it was a brand new sensation.

The romantic bit of their relationship was slow growing from the beginning even when they were closer. It was difficult drawing a line on what was romantic when one already has such open affection, or what was a sexual desire for a specific person when one had a teenager's natural curiosity and drive to explore. Their future as clan heads (despite responsibility and weight of the title varying between clans) complicated things a bit. By age 17, their last year of relative peace before everything went to shit in quick succession, they'd talk about it with no inhibition or insecurities over their places on each other's life _(and he had no idea how easy the had it)_ ; one of them would wonder out loud if it’d be accurate to say they were boyfriends, or that they were “dating”, and they'd always reach the conclusion it made no difference, like their intimacy was above kinship titles offered by a world hesitant to love wholeheartedly, above language itself, above their very humanity,

(at that Chouji would joke "why of course, we would have been this close even if we had been born as dogs". It made Shikamaru chuckle, but he was often bothered with how swiftly Chouji would evade deeper discussions that delved on emotional topics, finding it difficult to be vulnerable even to Shikamaru, by feigning simple-mindedness. It was ok, he was sensitive, his chronically bruised ego quivering shallow under his skin. He was very scared of being hurt, and with reason, it wasn't hard to do so with the most well-meaning words, so he pulled away instinctively; but Shikamaru knew Chouji had explicit awareness of his own feelings, he knew the depressing little poetry books Chouji borrowed from his mom, some of which Shikamaru himself didn't have the necessary empathy to relate to). 

Shikamaru wondered if it’d make a difference now to label their relationship, if it'd be easy if he had a social contract obliging him to come back and pay more attention. He felt like an asshole but they were all struggling so he cut himself some slack.

The kissing slowed down and ceased, but they kept their foreheads pressed, enjoying the intimacy that was so dearly missed. Chouji had a thumb and pointer inched under the hem of his shirt, pressing on the bare skin of his hips, while he had a hand on the back of his neck, under all that frizzy wild hair he so loved, half under the collar of his yukata. He slid further down, feeling the impressive musculature of his shoulders, his fingers spreading and exploring the ridges like he was trying to read braille (which he could, a skill learned in a feverish summer night where he worried himself sick with the possibility of being unable to go back to work immediately after some hypothetical horrible accident, while he got used to shifting between administrative and field work). The touch, as intimate and thrilling it was, wasn’t entirely sexual (though he missed that too). Just the skin-on-skin contact gave him a sense of calm and bliss he couldn’t get with any sneaked-in 2pm nap, the compulsory weekends off, or all that chain-smoking he managed to do indoors until Kakashi or Naruto snapped and scolded him to go outside.

He felt a little stupid. He lost himself in work so completely because he was so scared of dealing with his personal life, of hurting Chouji because he was hurting so much he didn’t know if he had the strength to give him the love and attention he deserved when they were all screwed up in the head straight out of war. And that was so stupid, he felt now, he was so incredibly dumb. Now, holding Chouji, being held, he felt so invulnerable. He felt strong. And he felt Chouji’s strength too, thrumming under his hot skin, deep-running blood and chakra ready to boil and bubble over. He could do anything for Chouji and he felt in the strong arm curled around his back and the firm but gentle hand in his hips (so gentle, but not because he felt Shikamaru was as breakable as he once was, but because Chouji’s loving nature ached to protect, cherish and warm the weak and strong alike) - Chouji could also do anything for him.

Shikamaru slid his head to nestle on Chouji’s shoulder.

“I love you, you know… I really do. I’m so sorry,” he whined in a tired pasty voice. He knew Chouji didn’t need an apology and probably never blamed him enough to be angry and have to, now, forgive him.

Chouji sighed deeply, gave him a soft kiss in the cheek, then let himself fall on top of Shikamaru, his weight alone bringing them both to a lying position. Shikamaru half adjusted himself and half let Chouji adjust him, bringing his legs up and pulling him against his plushy, warm chest. The bigger man kissed his cheek again, and he now felt the stretch of a smile against it.

“I love you too… you look so tired… let’s nap a little,” he rubbed two knuckles gently over Shikamaru’s sharp jawbone, playing with the neglected stubble that made it look like he was trying and failing to grow a full beard. Probably worrying about how protruding his bones were, and how his cheeks sank in. He hadn’t been eating well without Chouji’s motivating cheerfulness around food that made everything seem so much more appetizing than it really was, or dragging him along to multiple heavy meals a day... plus all the work and smoking he’s been doing. He gave himself permission to pout in self-pity for a moment, but Chouji quickly kissed it away, pecking at his bottom lip and the corner of his mouth until Shikamaru relaxed.

Shikamaru was already half asleep when they separated and he felt the shifting weight of the pillow as Chouji’s head dropped next to his, an arm slung over him in a cozy embrace, hand on his shoulder. Shikamaru brought up his own hand, sliding his fingertips across in a soft caress, and finally entangling bony fingers on Chouji’s own, big and tough (but far less clumsy than one would think). He scooched closer, tucking his head under Chouji’s chin, mouth brushing over his collar bone, feeling the raspy vibrations of a weak but satisfied giggle. Their breathing became synchronized; their legs pushed against one another, interweaving to their satisfaction until they rested, entangled, as were their hearts and lives.

**Author's Note:**

> This might become an unplanned little shikachou series :). Again, I'm a very casual writer and have no experience with continued stories or longer projects, so I'd love suggestions on how to deal with the orders in the series page in case I don't follow a linear timeline. I dislike changing the order from publication since I think it's confusing wrt what you have or haven't read, but I also don't really like when the notes for a new part point to a specific place that makes you overthink whether you want to return to the series page and make up your own reading order... if you're interested in seeing more parts to it, let me know your preferences!
> 
> Also, irrelevant here, but my daydreams solidified some canon-divergent hcs that I'll likely base all fics here, like Asuma being alive and the war being chronologically longer than canon (the pacing on that part was... kinda goofy as we all know). Just thought it would be helpful to note here :). Hoping to write something more Chouji-centered too, as he's my actual all-time fave...


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